Start It All Over Again
by comealongpond
Summary: Eleven/Amy, post-Angels Take Manhattan. The Doctor figures out a way to keep Amy with him forever.


After four months without her, the Doctor does something he really, really should not do.

At first he was just going to stay in the shadows. All he really wanted, anyway, was to hear her voice one last time. But once he's there—standing on their street as Amy and Rory walk down to their car, hearing Amy laugh at something Rory says, seeing her flaming ginger hair swing in the sunlight as she turns her head, giving him a profile view of her radiant smile—well, all of his reservations against manipulating set timelines turn to dust.

He's not sure exactly where he is in her lifetime, but when he greets her, Amy smiles and gives him a hug, and Rory pats him on the back. Neither of them seem to think much of his impromptu visit, but when Amy holds him, he grips the fabric of her blouse tightly, savoring every moment.

xx

After that visit, he tries to put it an end to it, but of course that doesn't happen. He ends up coming back, to an even earlier time. Maybe it's nostalgia. Maybe it's him trying to get as far away as possible from what happened in New York.

Either way, it's entirely selfish.

Because every time the Doctor visits the Ponds, he seems to create a new timeline, thus erasing the previous one. It's as if every interaction he has with them changes the course of their future, and soon everything gets so jumbled that it's impossible to know just how these new visits line up with the old ones. The more he visits Amy and Rory, the more they seem to deviate from the Ponds he's used to.

They are still much the same, of course. Their personalities, for instance, are mostly consistent. But little things—their jobs, their clothes, their experiences—all are subject to change. Each time he sees them, it's almost like meeting them for the first time. They know who he is, but he never has any idea what they will be like—no idea what might be going on in their lives, no idea about anything. All he knows is that despite how much of a mess he's made, Amy and Rory (at least some form of them) are still here with him now, and he's going to make the most of it.

In this regard, the universe is gracious with him. He's made so many paradoxes now that it shouldn't even be possible for him to keep spending time with Amy, but it's almost as if the universe takes pity on him and lets him go without too many complications. The curious thing is that no matter how much their adventures in this timeline stray from what the Doctor considers to be the _original _timeline, there are always certain places where the trio seems to end up, as if by coincidence. Apalapucia, a pirate ship, a spaceship carrying a cargo of dinosaurs—and, finally, New York.

When he realizes where they've landed, he's filled with an untold amount of dread, though he supposes he's always known this was coming. He's beginning to think that maybe it's just destiny—it is, or used to be, a fixed point—but then the most remarkable thing happens, something that he didn't think possible.

Amy chooses him instead.

xx

Life without Rory is so strange that it's nearly unbearable, though they learn to adjust after time. At first, Amy feels terrible that she didn't do more to try to save him, but the Doctor assures her that he _knows _there was no way to get Rory back. (The Doctor never tells her that he's lived any of this before, but with the way that Amy looks at him sometimes, he thinks that maybe she can tell, or that she at least has a suspicion.)

He takes her mind off of the pain by taking her to the most amazing places he can think of, but their relationship is never quite the same. They never talk about what happened, but there's an unspoken understanding that Amy never wants to return back home, never wants to face anyone that she knew from "normal life."

Eventually, Amy's grief becomes less pronounced, and she and the Doctor become even closer. It's just the two of them now, and they are never going to leave each other again. In a way, this is what the Doctor always wanted, but the reality turns out to be more difficult than the dream. Despite the fact that there is no longer anything in the way of their being together, their relationship is still a confusing one, marked by uncertainty, secrecy, and longing. Most of the time, they are happy together, but there are always those off days, those days when he knows she's thinking about her past, about Rory.

The Doctor finds her asleep one night on the library sofa, her mouth slightly agape, looking blissfully at peace with the world. He reaches down and strokes her hair lightly, and wonders if he'll ever find a universe where he doesn't end up destroying her life.

xx

It goes without saying that he's going to lose her someday. She's a human and he's a Time Lord and that's just the way it has to be. It may take years, decades even, but it's going to happen. The Doctor has learned more than enough times that every moment he spends with Amelia is one to be treasured, and so even though they end up traveling together for years, he still finds himself grateful for every experience.

When she finally does die, it happens peacefully, and the Doctor doesn't feel quite as bad as he expected he would. Because this time, he has a solution. In his defense, he does, for a while, consider stopping. He considers finding someone new. He's well aware that that's what _should _do. For a brief period of time, he actually tries to move on. But his future seems meaningless if Amy isn't in it. By now, he's retired from saving the world. All he wants is her. Amelia Pond, always and forever... He could live out an eternity with her, and only her...skipping from reality to reality, always seeking out the same Scottish girl with the short skirts and red hair. Just by pushing a few buttons and pulling a few levers, he can be with her again. It is almost too easy. He can repeat his time with her as over and over, as often as he likes. What's the harm in that?

With the Doctor, there's never really such a thing as a forever, but this might be his closest chance at it.

Soon, he's back at Leadworth, landing the TARDIS right in front of her house, right next to the shed he crashed into when they first met. That night feels like centuries ago, and he supposes that for him, it has been. Things feel almost dreamlike as he steps outside into the mid-morning air, and sees a figure opening the door and rushing through the garden towards him, a look of delight on her face.

At nineteen years of age, he's surprised at not only how young she looks, but how much more innocent and carefree she seems to be just in the way she behaves. He can see it in her expression, even the way she walks. This was right after everything that happened with Prisoner Zero, and although he may have still ruined her childhood, she is relatively unbroken in the grand scheme of things. "And just where have you been?" she asks, trying to sound cross, but he can tell that she's thrilled.

"Nowhere," he says, not missing a beat. "Came right back here."

"A day late. Changed your clothes, I see."

"Kept the bowtie."

She laughs, and he smiles at her, and for the first time in what feels like forever, it's as if everything is perfect between them. Then she pauses, cocking her head and looking at him carefully. He marvels at the fact that even now, when she hardly knows him at all, she is still able to sense his emotions so impeccably. "Is everything alright with you? You look like there's something wrong. Something you haven't told me yet."

"Of course not. What would be wrong? We just saved the planet, didn't we?" He smiles at her reassuringly and, to end the conversation, turns around to face the TARDIS. From the corner of his eye, he can see that Amy is looking at the blue box with anticipation. He can't help but find amusement in this, and when finally asks her if she'd like to come along with him, she doesn't even attempt to hide her excitement.

xx

He can make her immortal, he thinks. Not in the same way that he is—not actually—but to him…yes. No matter how muddled the universe has become, she is always there, irrevocably. He can always find her. Sometimes it feels different, as if she's not actually with him, but instead something of an apparition, a trace of an old version of Amy, still hanging on to this world. Nothing is ever quite the same as how it used to be, the very first time. _The first time…_ It has been so long the Doctor has almost forgotten it how it felt. Back when his hearts were unbroken and they were happy. The more he repeats, the more wrong it begins to feel. She is there, but she is distant, she is fake, she is not real. But it's _her_, it's his Amelia, and he holds on tight.


End file.
